


Over the Knee

by sarai377



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Explicit Sexual Content, Gags, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-01-05 21:50:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18374756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarai377/pseuds/sarai377
Summary: Robin and Chrom explore BDSM in a Modern setting. (A series of sometimes-interconnected scenes, similar to Take Control.)Part 1: in which Robin and Chrom go to a sex store and play with their new toys (and Robin discovers he really likes BDSM)Part 2: in which Chrom (wearing a suit) utterly dominates Robin (wearing a skirt)





	1. Sex Shop Part 1

Bells tinkle on the door as Robin draws Chrom inside.

A disinterested worker leans at the counter, barely registering their entrance before turning back to his phone. Chrom takes in everything, trying to keep himself from drifting off, from letting all the complex feelings inside of him _out_ where anyone can see.

It’s one thing to imagine this visit, to guess what will pique Robin's interest… and another thing entirely to experience his reactions first-hand.

Robin takes stock of the store. Chrom trails behind, their hands linked. Robin’s so… methodical, the same way he gets when he’s dissecting Sql code or figuring out exactly how to take down a video game boss. Robin sees everything in the store, putting little invisible marks on things that he wants, and Chrom watches. Anticipation crawls along his spine, into his stomach.

Robin loops back around to the entrance and finally turns to Chrom. He’s trembling, a fine little shiver in his body, _eagerness_. Chrom feels it too.

“What do you think?” Robin asks, keeping his voice low.

The employee glances up and then looks back at his phone.

“Pick anything you want,” Chrom says, leaning close and pressing a soft kiss to Robin’s hair.

It’s no surprise that Robin leads them right back to the bondage section, a secluded little alcove monitored by CCTV.

That’s what they’re here for.

Robin touches the ropes, and Chrom lifts a purple coil from one of the hangers.

“This would look good on you,” he says, holding it to Robin’s skin.

Robin slips his wrist into the open loop at the top. He studies it, and Chrom studies him. Robin’s pupils dilate just slightly as he looks up. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Chrom whispers.

Robin shudders, looking down, the ghost of a smile on his face.

Chrom lets Robin choose, and tries very hard not to influence his decisions. When Robin takes one of the gags off the shelf, though, Chrom has to speak up. “You might not be able to handle that one, yet,” he says.

Robin looks at him, then back at the thick, hard rubber of the ball gag. His thumb brushes against it, texture beneath his delicate finger. “You don’t think so?”

There’s a challenge in his eyes, defiance, and Chrom steps closer and puts his hand on the back of Robin’s neck, just a brief caress. “What about this one first?” He motions to a softer rubber bit gag, meant to restrict rather than fill. The one that Robin picked is a bit too large, meant for someone with a longer jaw. It will be very uncomfortable.

“We'll get both,” Robin says.

It’s Chrom’s turn to shudder, imagining Robin's mouth stretched around the ball gag. “Okay,” he says, and kisses him gently on the temple. “What else are you thinking about?”

Robin holds the gags himself, looking down at both of them. When he looks up, his eyes are slightly unfocused. “What?”

Robin isn't usually this distracted. Chrom's pleased with Robin’s reaction, and he's gentle as he repeats the question. “What else interests you?”

Robin’s eyes go over Chrom’s shoulder. “Those…”

Chrom turns. A variety of clamps hang on the pegboard just behind him. He imagines them on Robin, pinching all that pale skin, fantasizing Robin’s little whimpers as he puts them on…

Chrom goes and selects a pair of butterfly clamps. He holds them up and Robin accepts them, running his fingers over the cold chain connecting them. His mouth parts, and Chrom smiles.

Then Robin looks up at him, and there’s eager desire in his eyes. “I want more.”

They pick out a vibrating butt plug after the clamps. Robin caresses the packaging, fingers running along the words _Twelve thrilling speeds_. Chrom offers to take it, seeing that his hands are already full.

“What else?” Robin asks, breathless.

Chrom feels equally as breathless. He leans in, lips to Robin's hair. “This is everything I need to tie you up and have my way with you.”

Robin presses his shoulder to Chrom’s. His eyes are bright, and the store narrows to just the two of them, their arms filled with objects to torment Robin with. “Let's get out of here,” he says, and all but drags Chrom to the register.

 

When they get back to their apartment, they leave a trail of clothes from the door to the bedroom. Their coats barely make it onto the rack. Robin slips out of his boat shoes behind the couch, and Chrom pulls Robin’s hoodie over his head at the kitchen counter, hooking it over the back of one of the island stools.

Chrom pins Robin against the wall between kitchen and dining room, grinding one thigh between his legs. Robin groans, tugging at Chrom’s polo shirt. When he pulls it off, his hands immediately go across Chrom’s collarbones and down the center of his body. Chrom hands Robin the bag of goodies with a crinkle, and kisses him.

They make it to the bedroom, somehow, and Robin sinks naked on the bed while Chrom removes his jeans, laying the items out beside him. Robin’s eyes get bigger and bigger with every item, as if surprised at everything they selected - _he_ selected, truthfully. Chrom uncoils the rope from the store, leaving it beside the rope he’d pulled from the closet earlier. He kneels on the bed next to Robin.

“What do you want me to do?” Chrom asks, making loops and then unraveling them.

“Everything,” Robin whispers, his hands running along all their purchases, eyes pinned on Chrom. “ _Everything_.”

 

Last night, they’d been watching CSI, curled up on the couch together. When Robin opened his mouth, Chrom had braced for the rest of the show to be ruined, Clue-style - _It was the butler with the shoehorn in the underground sex dungeon_ \- but Robin had instead mentioned that he was interested in trying some bondage.

Chrom went still, and paused the show to turn to him. “Really?”

Robin blushed, but regarded him steadily. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to try. And I trust you. Do you… want to?”

“I’ve imagined tying you up for a while now.” The words came out before Chrom could stop them.

Robin smiled. He brought his hands to Chrom’s chest, leaning in. “Really? Like that?” He motioned to the flat screen, where one of the characters stood in a leather outfit, bearing a whip.

“No… like this.” Chrom caught Robin’s hands up in one of his own, then stretched him out along the leather couch, the blankets unfurling from around their legs with the sudden movement. Robin sucked in a breath as Chrom leaned over him and pressed his other hand to Robin's groin. He was pleasantly surprised to find Robin more than half hard, and he ground his own body against Robin's, making sure he could feel his own excitement.

“You already make the most desperate little sounds when I tease you,” Chrom said, kissing Robin, who made a little whine into his mouth, as if to prove his point. “We can go tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait,” Robin said, already looking debauched.

 

Chrom takes one of the ropes and weaves a basic knot into it, just watching Robin. Robin sits up, watching his fingers unravel it. “Chrom?”

“Get on your knees,” Chrom says. He’s surprised that his voice doesn’t crack, that it holds firm.

Robin sits up straighter, looking at him for an instant. He doesn’t speak, only does as Chrom said, hands curling and uncurling as he kneels in the center of the bed.

Chrom turns him, gets him more or less into position. He’s been thinking about this nonstop for the past twenty-four hours, running through every scenario in his mind. He wants something easy for Robin, something that won’t stress his body too much, but still give Chrom all the access he wants.

Robin is almost unnaturally still, watching him, eager but quiet. Chrom kisses him, and he _melts_ up against Chrom, making those breathless sounds that Chrom loves.

Then Chrom pulls back. Robin’s eyes are closed, his head tilted, and Chrom takes the bight of the purple rope and slips the long ends around Robin’s neck, then loops the tails through. Robin’s eyes open, and his tongue darts over soft pink lips, but Chrom ignores that temptation. Instead Chrom says, “I’ve been thinking about how I want to have you, all day. What positions to try, how you’re going to react to me… how you’ll feel.”

Robin stays silent, hanging on his every word.

“I’ll make you feel good,” Chrom promises. “Maybe not at first, and it might get uncomfortable, but... I hope it’ll feel good, for both of us.”

Chrom sends the tails around Robin’s neck again, and feels him swallow against his knuckles, pressed beneath the rope. Then he winds them downward into a chain stitch. “How does that feel?”

Robin turns his head this way and that, surprisingly mute. “A bit loose,” he finally says.

“Are you certain?” Chrom asks, and gives a little tug.

Robin jerks forward with a soft gasp, and Chrom catches him against his body. Robin’s erection presses to Chrom’s hipbone, warm hands against his chest.

“Oh,” Robin whispers, blinking, and Chrom presses a quick kiss to his cheek before finishing off the stitch. Chrom lets the ends fall down his pale torso, trailing into a small pile before his knees. The purple does look good against his skin.

“You said… you’ve done this to yourself?” Robin asks, as Chrom reaches for another length of rope.

“Yes… but never this position. Never completely tied,” Chrom says, moving behind Robin. “Never unable to get myself loose.”

“Oh,” Robin whimpers, and squirms on his knees.

Chrom takes a gentle handful of hair and pulls Robin back against his body. Robin’s eyes roll, and his hands tense and loosen. “Alright?” Chrom asks.

Robin’s throat bobs. “Yeah.”

“Hands back,” Chrom says, and presses Robin upright.

Robin obeys, turning to look over his shoulder, but his lids are heavy and he’s not quite fully aware. Chrom turns Robin’s hands, wrists together, and slips the ropes around them, weaving them into a lark’s head double. He explains as he works: the knot will keep the ties from collapsing around his wrists and cutting off circulation. Robin listens, tilting his head. Chrom eases a finger beneath each of the cuffs, ensuring the proper spacing.

“What’s your safeword?” Chrom asks. They’d discussed this yesterday, and Robin promised to come up with one.

Robin’s eyes have gone distant through the headboard. His breathing is deep and methodical. “...Falchion,” he eventually says. A famous sword from the video game that brought them closer during their high school years.

“I like it,” Chrom says, and winds the ropes around the tie one last time. “Give that a try. See if you can get free.”

Robin does so, squirming, the wiry muscles in his back tensing and releasing. Chrom runs a hand down his spine, savoring the shudder. “How does it feel?”

“...Loose?”

Chrom tugs on the ends of the rope, still in his hand, and Robin leans forward as his arms are pulled up. He shifts on his knees with a gasp, catching his balance.

“Still feel loose?”

Robin is breathing hard through his nose, hair falling over his closed eyes.

This is _better_ than Chrom had ever imagined, and simultaneously meeting every expectation at once. He hadn’t known how Robin would react to being tied, but he’s reading his body and it is eager, _engaged_.

“How is it?”

When Robin doesn’t answer, Chrom gives a little tug. Robin gasps, his torso curving downward as his arms pull up. “G-good,” he breathes. “Chrom, I…”

Chrom ruffles his hair out of his face, catching his chin and drawing it up. Robin looks at him, dazed, and Chrom could come right _there_ , get off on the barest of touches from Robin’s heated skin.

How is it that Robin has never tried this with anyone else, before, that Chrom is the absolute _first_ to see him like this?

When Robin shifts toward him, Chrom lets him get close, but then tugs on the ropes, forcing Robin’s head down and away. He lets out a soft groan, his obvious intention to kiss Chrom thwarted.

“Not yet,” Chrom says. “Stay still.”

And he drops the arm ropes, letting them coil on his heels.

Robin keeps his arms up where they were. “Good,” Chrom says. Robin’s ribs expand and contract with deep breaths, and Chrom imagines how they would look with some of that purple rope woven all across his body. _Later_ , he promises himself, and goes around Robin to the ropes at his neck. This first time, he wants to keep it simple. But it seems he’ll get ample opportunity to try out the other wicked things in his mind, if Robin’s current reaction holds true.

When Chrom pulls the lead on his neck taut, Robin’s positioning weakens. He rises up onto his knees, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. His cock stands out between his legs, straining toward Chrom.

“Hold your form,” Chrom says, and Robin tries to get it back. He does a fairly good job, although his hands aren’t nearly as high as they had been before. His body shakes with the effort of returning to this position, but more than that, with anticipation.

“Arms higher.” Chrom presses up on his wrists, pulling them up another few inches.

Robin gasps, and sways, regaining his balance with trembling thighs.

“Stay there,” Chrom says.

“Okay,” Robin whispers.

And he does, as Chrom ties his neck lead to the right-side bedpost. He stays mostly still, even when Chrom gives a little tug to make certain it’s taut.

The collar has ridden up a little on Robin’s neck, and to his right. Chrom inspects it carefully as Robin stays still, arms that must already be aching straight out behind him.

Chrom puts two fingers in Robin’s mouth. “Suck,” he orders. Robin does, swirling his tongue for good measure. Chrom watches his throat for clearance, trying not to communicate that delightful sensation to his cock. Robin holds his position, even as he does his best to suck Chrom’s fingers down his throat.

Chrom has to pull away, and he wipes the saliva on Robin’s chest. “You’re doing amazing.” He cups Robin’s cheek, thumb brushing at the corner of his mouth.

Robin’s whole body shivers. “Thank you,” he whispers, glossy eyes raised through pale lashes.

Chrom moves behind him, taking the rope trailing from his bound hands and letting the ends slide along his rear, his feet. Robin makes a soft noise, almost a murmur.

And then Chrom pulls it back, quickly. Robin gasps, suddenly caught between the two points, shuffling on his knees. Chrom draws Robin's arm ties back to the left-foot post, and stretches him out. Chrom ties a loose knot on the post and backs up, studying. Robin sways, finding a sweet spot where neither rope is pulling too hard.

His breathing is heavy, almost harsh.

“Alright, Robin?”

He opens his eyes, but doesn't even try to look for Chrom. “Yeah,” he whispers.

Chrom runs along the rope to his hands, up his arms, and then slides his hand up and down Robin's torso, light, almost ticklish touches. Robin shudders, and squirms, but there’s only so much play in the ropes.

“Too loose, you think?” Chrom says, unable to hold back the teasing tone.

Robin smiles almost dreamily, golden eyes sharpened just a hair. “Much too loose.”

Chrom kisses him - he can't help it, Robin is _perfect_ like this, so wonderful, and Robin kisses back. Chrom nibbles his bottom lip, and Robin moans softly.

He draws back, eager for the next phase, but needing to secure the loose knot. Chrom pulls Robin’s arms up more, lashing the rope to a conveniently-placed curve three-quarters of the way up the post.

Robin cries out, softly, and hunches over further. Chrom watches Robin struggle with the ropes, finding the best spot which relieves the most pressure on shoulders and neck. Chrom doesn't dare touch himself, only watches, absorbing those little sounds and squirms.

When Robin stills, then, _finally_ , Chrom lets himself approach.

Robin looks up, sensing his attention, golden eyes flashing. He licks his lips, parting them enticingly.

Chrom shakes his head. “You should see yourself, Robin,” he says, and touches his back, gliding a hand across that warm skin. “You looks so good, so eager.” Robin makes a soft noise and swallows, shifting his shoulders. Eventually his heavy breathing calms, adjusting to the almost-chaste way Chrom touches him.

Then Chrom goes and grabs the smaller of the two gags. Robin narrows his eyes. Chrom shakes his head again. “You're not going to like the bigger one.” But, at the insistent look in Robin's eye, he sets down the bit and picks up the black rubber ball, then brings it toward Robin.

Robin doesn't realize, probably, but he shrinks back as Chrom approaches with it, as much as the ropes will allow. Chrom touches Robin’s jaw, finds it tight. He grazes fingers along Robin's cheek and leans in, lowering the gag out of immediate sight, then coaxes his mouth open with a kiss.

When Robin is making soft pleased sounds in his throat, his mouth working against Chrom's, letting his tongue in, Chrom pulls back. “Ready?”

Robin closes his mouth and swallows, then drops his jaw, meeting Chrom's gaze with determination.

Chrom settles the ball between his teeth. Robin makes a muffled sound almost immediately, but he doesn't look at Chrom. He lowers his head at Chrom's gentle tug and lets him buckle it in place

Chrom settles back, watching him adjust to the gag - or, rather, try to. The ball is big, stretching his mouth, and Chrom can tell when he presses his tongue against it from beneath, fighting the sensation. There's always an element of powerlessness with any oral obstruction, and this one is severe. He makes soft huffs of air through his nose.

It looks good on him, but it’s too big. Robin’s body arches oddly, and some of his fingers curl around the rope behind him, pads gripping it tight, ready to twang it like a guitar string.

“Robin,” Chrom says, and dips in to try and meet his eyes. His eyes are squeezed shut. Chrom presses his fingers to the hinge of Robin's jaw. “Relax, Robin. Don't bite down. Don't try to swallow. You can still breathe. Relax…” Robin shakes his head, once, and curls in a bit more. He makes a terribly muffled noise.

His erection, which had been standing tall through all this, starts to flag.

Chrom touches his back and Robin flinches, throwing his eyes open wide. He makes desperate noises behind the gag, impossible to recognize, but Chrom knows the pattern, can see the strain.

Robin is using his safeword.

He immediately undoes the strap and takes ahold of the gag.

“Let go, open your mouth,” he coaxes, and Robin stops biting so tight. It pops free, and Chrom drops it to the bed. “Do you want me to untie you?” he asks immediately, gripping Robin’s arm gently, hovering close. He’s seen this sort of reaction, knows what to do if someone safewords out. He’s only concerned with Robin’s safety.

Robin works his jaw, panting. “No, I… just need a moment.”

Chrom stays close, ready to leap to his assistance the moment he says something else. He runs his hand through Robin's pale hair, presses soft kisses to his shoulder.

Gradually, Robin stops panting, and his body relaxes into the ties again. His shoulders must be starting to ache, but Robin doesn’t complain.

“You were right,” Robin says, and looks up at him, a bit sheepishly.

Chrom kisses his hair. “It's alright. I understand.”

“You've tried that?” Robin asks.

“I have,” Chrom says. “That size is almost too large for me.”

“Almost,” Robin repeats, a gleam back in his eye. He’ll try it again, Chrom thinks, but not today.

That suits him just fine.

“Ready to keep going? Maybe we’ll leave the gag off for a bit.”

Robin gives a short nod. His fingers have stopped gripping the rope, and he looks as relaxed as someone in this position could be. He makes a soft sound when Chrom touches his cock, which is plump but no longer as hard as it was.

It doesn’t take much for it to return to full hardness, just a few strokes of Chrom’s hand and some squirming against the ropes. Robin gets off on the discomfort, he _must_ , and Chrom finds himself amazed yet again. Robin closes his eyes and surrenders to it.

“You're doing so good,” Chrom murmurs, slowing his hand and lightening to just a brush of fingertips. “Look at you, you're amazing.”

Robin shudders and moans, trying to follow the fleeting touch with his hips.

“Not yet,” Chrom says.

Robin whimpers. “Chrom.”

“Not yet.” Chrom withdraws his hand completely. “You have to earn it.”

Robin lets out a shuddering breath. “I want to,” he breathes, raising pleading eyes to him.

Chrom trembles, and presses a soft kiss to Robin’s cheek, avoiding Robin’s attempt to kiss on the mouth.

“Soon enough,” he promises, and reaches for one of the new toys. He removes the dildo from the package.

“Oh gods,” Robin murmurs, watching Chrom lube it up.

Chrom approaches with it. Robin flexes his fingers against the ropes, once, and then forces himself to relax when Chrom sets a hand on his lower back.

Tension sings in Robin’s body, but a good sort of tension, aware of the pleasure that awaits him.

Robin takes it easily, as Chrom works the dildo inside of him, throwing his head and struggling against the bonds. His dick is leaking precome, and so hard the head looks a bit red. When the dildo is settled inside, Chrom reaches down and pinches the single drop of precome from the tip of Robin’s cock. Robin wheezes at even that non-existent touch. It glitters on Chrom’s fingers as he raises his hand so Robin can see.

He puts his fingers in Robin’s mouth. “Taste how eager you are,” Chrom breathes, glad that there’s no chance Robin can reach for his own dick, which is also leaking. It won’t take much, and he has other plans.

Robin groans around his fingers, and it sounds like Chrom’s name, badly mangled.

Chrom lifts the remote and finds the ON button.

Robin bucks against the bonds, throwing his head back, body contorting at the sudden vibration deep inside. It’s just on the first setting, the lowest one, and yet his reaction is amazing.

“Chrom,” he gasps.

For a moment, Chrom thinks it’s too much, that this is going to send Robin over the edge. The dildo is probably barely touching his prostate. But after several moments of struggling, he relaxes, sagging into the ropes, which pull tighter against his neck and wrists.

“Chrom,” Robin whispers, eyelashes fluttering.

“You have to earn it,” Chrom says, taking Robin’s chin in his hand. It takes him a few moments to focus, lost to sensation, and he’s gorgeous in his submission. Eventually Robin nods, showing that he heard him, understands what it means.

Chrom stands on the bed, keeping a light hand on Robin’s hair, letting him know he’s not going anywhere. Robin is high up on his knees, held there by the rope around his neck, although hunched forward a bit. It’ll be a stretch… but Chrom won’t last long anyway. It shouldn’t be too uncomfortable for Robin.

He puts his cock at Robin’s open mouth. Robin looks up, and sudden understanding lights him up from within.

“Suck me, and I’ll let you come,” Chrom says, his own voice harsh.

Robin licks his lips, and takes Chrom into his mouth.

It’s easily the best blow job Chrom’s ever had. Robin makes little whimpering noises, a combination of the strain from the ropes and the persistent vibration inside of him. He’s sloppy, but eager, _determined_ , completely focused on pleasing Chrom. His tongue swirls around Chrom’s head when he pulls back, and he applies suction as he takes Chrom’s length in. His arms strain behind him.

“Robin, gods, that’s _it_ ,” Chrom says. Pleasure rises inside of him, ratcheting upward and upward, mounting with every eager tongue movement.

Robin makes a soft groan, and redoubles his efforts.

Chrom’s body feels _alive_ , every synapse firing, warning and excitement and delight altogether. “I’m--” he blurts, and Robin hums and _sucks_.

Chrom locks his knees as he comes, groaning, and somehow manages to keep his balance. It floods around him, through him, dimming the world for a few extended moments. Robin swallows every last drop, panting around it, eyes closed, lost to sensation and Chrom’s murmured praise.

Chrom pulls out and drops to his knees before Robin, cupping his face. Chrom’s cock pulses weakly and his body twitches as aftershocks run through him. “That was… incredible,” he whispers, and then kisses him. Robin moans into his mouth. It’s salty and almost bitter, but Chrom doesn’t care, because it’s _Robin_ , and now it’s Robin’s turn.

Robin cries out when Chrom pulls away, twisting his hands and straining toward him. “Chrom, Chrom, please,” he whimpers. “Please--!”

Chrom bumps the vibration up to level two, and watches Robin struggle against it for a few moments.

“Gods, _gods_ , Chrom - please!”

“You’re doing wonderful,” Chrom says, and Robin’s eyes roll back in his head.

It takes a few delicious seconds before Robin adjusts to the vibration, finding a position where it isn’t quite so intense. He opens his eyes, and stares up at Chrom, smiling in a bit of a daze.

“Ready for something else?” Chrom raises the bit gag.

Robin groans, and nods, swallowing hard.

He opens his mouth and settles his teeth around the bit, and Chrom can tell before he’s even strapped this one on that it sits nicely in his mouth. He can breathe freely around it, and even speak, although his words will be mangled.

“Better?” Chrom asks, working the straps behind his head, careful not to pinch his hair.

“Mmmhmm,” Robin says. When Chrom pulls back, Robin’s head is hanging, but there’s nothing tense in his body language. His erection strains out, begging for contact.

Chrom tilts Robin’s chin up. The bit tugs the corners of his mouth back, baring his white teeth. He digs them into the soft rubber, and it gives a bit. Robin’s eyes are closed, his breathing only a little elevated.

Chrom increases the setting to three.

Robin contorts, and bites down, making a muffled cry behind the gag. He whimpers something that sounds like, _“Please.”_

“I know,” Chrom whispers, running a hand down Robin’s torso. Robin shifts up, toward his hand, and just for that Chrom doesn’t touch his cock.

Robin groans.

Chrom reaches behind Robin and presses the dildo in a bit further. Robin gasps, and thrusts _back_ , sending the dildo even deeper. Mangled words pour from his mouth, around the bit gag, _Chrom_ and _Please_ and other words that Chrom can’t make out.

None of them sound remotely like _Falchion_.

“Can you come just like this?” Chrom asks, splaying his hand on Robin’s stomach, keeping the dildo pressed deep inside him. He breathes the soft warmth off his skin, pressing soft kisses to shoulder and neck. “Do you need more?” They are almost rhetorical questions, as Robin cannot give him an answer with words - when level four hits him words fail him anyway. His body trembles with great heaving gasps. He strains up, high on his knees, as if seeking a particular angle inside of him. His arms are taut behind him.

Chrom knows what angle Robin wants, has found it many times before. His cock, erect once more, presses forgotten against Robin’s hip as Chrom holds Robin close, angling the dildo against that place deep inside.

Robin screams as Chrom brings it to level five, and hits the right angle. He’s close, so close, and Chrom can tell the exact moment all that sensation crashes into Robin. He goes rigid, whimpering in the back of his throat, and his hips shudder. He comes onto the sheets, spurting out in front of him. Chrom holds him close, works it out of him, until Robin is mewling with it, gone completely slack in the combination of Chrom’s arms and the ropes.

When Chrom turns the vibrator off, Robin lets out a shuddering sigh. His body twitches. After the bit gag is removed, Robin smiles, but makes no attempt to free himself from the bonds. He seems content to just stay there, enjoying the feeling, stretched between wrists and neck.

Chrom settles back onto his heels when he’s certain Robin has his balance. He jerks himself off again, quickly, spilling into his own hand, at the sight of Robin bound and completely at his mercy, groaning into his hand.

Then he undoes the ropes, withdraws the vibrator from Robin’s body. He cleans both of them up with a soft facecloth. Robin sags against him, still floating on the after-waves of orgasm. He’s docile, calm, and Chrom cuddles him close.

Robin looks at the rope-marks on his skin, fingers tracing the dark marks along his wrists. “Wow,” he finally says.

Chrom grins. “That was amazing,” he agrees. “ _You_ were amazing.”

Robin ducks a smile into Chrom’s shoulder. “You forgot those,” Robin whispers, motioning at the clamps, still in their package.

Chrom kisses his cheek. “We’ll use them another time.”

Robin shudders in anticipation, and throws his arms around Chrom’s neck. “I… enjoyed that.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Chrom says, which earns him a little half-hearted swat. He chuckles, and slides them up into the pillows. Robin allows himself to be moved, limbs languid and tenseless. Chrom settles a blanket over them, and Robin drops his head to Chrom’s chest.

“Thank you,” Robin mumbles.

Later, they will clean up their bedroom and the trail of clothes they left. But for now, Chrom enjoys the way Robin seems to _need_ him, how relaxed and happy he is. Chrom runs his fingers through his hair, and holds Robin as he drifts into sleep.


	2. Suit and Skirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrom completely dominates skirt-wearing Robin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't from the same universe as the first chapter. 
> 
> A note: I don’t want to enforce gender stereotypes here. I don’t think clothes should be gendered, however Robin in a skirt is something that I really enjoyed thinking about. Robin is less “Oh no I shouldn’t be wearing this” and more “This looks good on me and I like the way it feels.”

Robin draws in a breath and shifts on his knees. The lush carpet doesn’t hurt his legs, but they are almost bare, and he feels every thread. He swallows and the collar bobs against his throat, a comforting presence, not restricting in the slightest. He smooths his hands on the plaid fabric over his thighs. 

Anticipation has him fidgeting, playing with the hem, shifting his shoulders. 

There’s the soft distinct click of the door, and then a lock sliding home behind him. 

Robin stops breathing, sits up straight. Chrom. He doesn’t turn, although he hears the creak of the floorboards, the approach. 

Chrom stops a few feet away, and Robin steals a glance - which turns into a full-on stare. 

Chrom is wearing a beautifully-tailored deep blue suit, pressed and creased. One hand rests easily on his hip, the other against the bedpost, both coated in buttery leather gloves. Robin’s eyes drift down to his belt, and then lower. He makes out the tell-tale stretch of fabric, and knows that Chrom is just as turned on as he is. 

There’s a coil of leather in one of Chrom’s hands. 

Robin looks up at Chrom, aware that his breath is coming in heavy uneven patches. Chrom reaches out and touches Robin’s cheek with one gloved hand. The leather is warm, communicating the heat of the flesh beneath, but still an obstacle to what Robin really wants. Robin closes his eyes and relaxes into the caress, as Chrom’s fingers trail into his hair, one tracing the curl of his ear. 

“You look stunning,” Chrom whispers. The air between them is charged like an imminent lightning bolt. “Waiting for me, so passive…” 

Robin feels every muscle in his body relax, just a smidgen, at Chrom’s words. This is what he wanted, what he had hoped for from the first moment he suggested this scenario. His fingers, which had been twisting the hem of the skirt, calm. 

“Hold this, and let me get a good look at you, love.” Something taps at his mouth. He opens his lips, and Chrom settles the coil of leather between his teeth. He bites into it, eyes wide and watching Chrom as he gives him another pat and steps away. A watch flashes from beneath his immaculate cuff as he idly touches one cufflink. 

Chrom walks all around Robin, his eyes like weights against his body. Robin is aware of how he looks - short pleated skirt, too large white button-down, stockings with garters hidden beneath the skirt. No underwear. The collar sits dark against his pale skin. He feels brazen, dangerous - confident. Ready to be taken in hand by Chrom’s subtle and unsubtle domination. 

“Get on your hands and knees.” 

Robin leaps to comply, trembling with excitement. He is tense, eager, anticipating where Chrom’s hands might fall. 

When Chrom touches his hip, Robin gasps and twitches. “Easy,” Chrom says, soft, gentle, but with a hard edge, the promise of punishment. “Hold the leash.” 

Robin almost drops it in surprise. He should have guessed that Chrom would eventually bring out a  _ leash _ \- he’s been wearing the collar during their sessions for quite some time. He gives a nod, acknowledging that he heard Chrom’s order. 

Chrom slips his hand beneath Robin’s skirt, through his legs, brushing his wrist against his balls - and caresses his cock. 

Robin lets out a sound, and bites down on the leash, unwilling to let it fall even as sensation explodes in his body. 

“Look how turned on you are. You kept from touching yourself, like I asked, correct?” 

Robin nods a bit frantically, not wanting to open his mouth and risk letting the leash fall out. 

“What was that?” Chrom’s hand tightens on his dick, and Robin arches his back. “I can’t hear you.” 

“Yeffsir,” Robin says around the leather. 

“Good.” Chrom removes his hand. 

Robin bites down a whine and shifts his shoulders. 

Chrom comes around to the front and thinks for a moment, and Robin squirms internally under that intense gaze. 

He reaches out and takes the leash from Robin's mouth, then sets one of his gloved hands before Robin's face. “Take this off,” he says, and makes Robin stretch up to reach it. As soon as the glove is off, his fingers are in Robin's mouth, exploring his tongue and cheeks. Robin sucks, settling into the familiar intimacy, letting it stoke the flames of his desire. 

Possibilities flit across Chrom's face, discarded or contemplated, and eventually he settles on one. “Undo the buttons on your shirt,” Chrom commands. Robin does so, Chrom's fingers still in his mouth. He starts to drool, unable to swallow, and still watches Chrom, who is watching him slowly part the fabric on his shirt. Chrom's other hand slips against his bared chest, still gloved, and runs down and down, before gliding gently along the front of Robin's skirt, fingers parting around his cock, barely granting any friction. It's enough for Robin to groan around the fingers in his mouth, and clutch at the cuffs of his shirt, pressing his nails into the fabric. 

“Do you like this?” Chrom asks, plucking at the skirt. 

“Yehhir,” Robin says, and his cheeks flame with heat at the brightness in Chrom's gaze. 

“I do too,” Chrom breathes. “The garters were a nice addition.” He shifts the skirt up, exposing the tops of the hose and the garters, as well as the tip of Robin's cock. 

Chrom withdraws his wet fingers, wiping the saliva on Robin's cheek, and shoves his other gloved hand to Robin's face. Chrom smiles and taps him on the nose after he removes the second glove, then glances down, smile growing. “My, you  _ are _ eager today.” 

Robin looks down too. His skirt is still pulled up, obscenely exposing him to Chrom's eyes. It's different, with clothing that is supposed to cover, compared to waiting for Chrom fully naked. It feels like a decency that is being slowly taken away, a subtle humiliation that layers itself into every second between them. He clasps his hands rather than move to cover himself. 

Chrom's look feels like a prompt, so Robin says, “I like it, sir.”

Chrom nods, likely cataloguing this for next time. 

Robin shivers. 

“We are going to play a little game,” Chrom says, running his bare fingers along Robin's jaw. He tilts up into the touch, watching Chrom's blue eyes for clues. He likes games, likes a challenge, and already he can feel himself slipping into his submissive state. Chrom's games are always that: creative, stretching Robin to his limits. Sometimes he succeeds, and sometimes not. 

“It will only be for five minutes.” Chrom pauses. 

“Yes, sir,” Robin says.

“On your hands and knees.” Chrom moves behind Robin as he obeys, mind churning over any number of prior challenges. It won't be flogging or whipping - those are reserved for punishments. Robin likes a bit of spanking, so probably not that either. 

“If you succeed, I will reward you.”

Chrom touches his ass and Robin trembles. He works a lubed finger inside, and then two, slowly scissoring Robin open. Robin falls into the simple sensations - he is to remain still and quiet, as usual, while Chrom preps him. Will he make Robin stay quiet while he fucks him? Will the torment be one of pain, or of pleasure, of not being allowed to do something he wishes? Robin doesn't know which he prefers. Chrom always manages to drive him wild. 

Chrom hums to himself as he withdraws, then says, “You're being so quiet, so good for me.” 

Robin bites down a sigh, closing his eyes. He loves when Chrom says things like that. He doesn't ask what the challenge will be - Chrom will make certain he understands, before it begins. There's a pleasure in not knowing, in guessing, and they both know this anticipation well. 

A smooth object is pressed to his entrance, and Robin exhales and lets it in. It stretches him, and he struggles not to squirm at the languid burn. Not Chrom's dick, but something rubbery and lubed up. He whines softly, and gets a soft caress to the small of his back. “Almost there.” 

It stretches and then pops in, settling into him. There's a bit of it still outside of him, and he knows the shape now, knows what it is. An elongated plug. He shifts around it, arching slightly, and sighs as it brushes against his prostate - then stills, thinking of Chrom. 

“Sit up,” Chrom orders. “Hands back.” 

Robin obeys, biting his lip as the plug shifts inside. He has a feeling he knows what the challenge will be. 

Chrom ties his wrists together behind his back, just tight enough that he won't be able to get free. Robin prefers a stronger tie, but he suspects this is part of the challenge - Chrom has done similar things before, where Robin has to hold himself still, as if tied, and submit to any pain or pleasure Chrom sees fit to apply. 

Chrom runs a hand fondly through Robin's hair as he comes around to the front. The suit accentuates his wide shoulders, his well-proportioned waist. He undoes the jacket as Robin watches, and tosses it to the bed. The vest beneath is the same color scheme as the suit, but patterned, embroidery giving it texture and depth. 

Chrom studies Robin, eyes dropping to his erection, hidden once more beneath the folds of the skirt. Robin stares back, a flush rising on his cheeks. He loves this, loves watching Chrom watch him. Robin's heart rises as Chrom smiles at him, fiddling with a cufflink. And then he gathers up the leash from the bed and clips it to Robin's collar. He slips his hand into the loop, then winds the leash until it sits taut between them. Robin doesn't rise off his heels, listening to the tension. They’ve played with rope leashes before, but this is the first time with an actual leash attached to his collar. He flexes his hands behind him. 

“Your task is to keep from coming for five minutes,” Chrom says. He holds up a small remote, and Robin's body tingles with awareness. “If you do that, I will give you a reward. Do you understand?” He tugs gently on the leash, prompting Robin to answer, “Yes, sir.” 

“Good. Your time starts… now.” 

The plug vibrates to life inside of Robin. He yelps and jerks up, then shakes himself and settles back onto his heels. The vibration edges up his spine, a pleasant caress just this side of discomfort. He breathes deep. 

Chrom is watching him. 

How many seconds has it been? Five, ten? Robin watches Chrom, who flicks his arm out and glances at the watch. Robin starts to count, trying to slow his breathing to the arbitrary seconds. 

“Too easy?” Chrom gives a tug on the leash, pulling Robin off his heels. Robin sways, catching himself, vibration shooting up his spine. Twenty-four, twenty-five… He grits his teeth as Chrom increases the intensity. 

Seconds fade from his mind, and he loses the count. He picks it back up at thirty-two, hoping he's right. Four and a half more minutes. He can last. 

The next level draws a ragged gasp from his throat. Fifty-eight, fifty-nine… 

“You're doing good,” Chrom says, and relaxes the leash. Robin settles back until it tightens, groaning as the position changes the angle inside of him, brushing at his prostate. 

At a minute twenty, Chrom increases the vibration again, and Robin twists his fingers against the rope. Too loose - too easy to reach down and try to touch the thing in his ass, to press it in deeper, to get it exactly where he wants it. “One twenty-three,” he breathes, tossing his head and closing his hands into fists. “One twenty-four, one twenty-five…” 

“Is that how long you think it's been?” Chrom asks, pulling Robin onto his knees again with the leash, drawing him close, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “If you're able to keep count it's not strong enough.” He bumps it up two levels, in quick succession. 

Robin can feel the vibration in his clenched teeth. 

“Please,” Robin starts to blurt, trembling, and then bites his lips. 

“Please, what?” Chrom whispers, still hovering close. 

How long has it been, a minute and forty? Robin is starting to think he won't make it. 

“N-no,” he whimpers, “Nothing.” 

One forty one, one forty two… 

Chrom sets one immaculate dress shoe on his shoulder, where the shirt hangs partially off, and presses him back onto his heels. Sensation ricochets through his body, and he tightens his thighs, aware suddenly of the ache in his cock, of how it's probably weeping precome right now, and how much he longs for release. 

One fifty-one? One fifty-three… 

Chrom brushes his shoe against Robin’s thigh and pulls the fabric away, exposing his dick. Robin doesn’t look down, but he feels Chrom’s attention on it, almost like a finger. He shudders with it. 

Another setting, now, and the vibrator drops to almost nothing and then revs up to full. Robin moans, body caught up in it, and just as it reaches a fever pitch and he thinks he might break - it fades down. Then it rises again, and he cries out. Two minutes and fifteen? Damned if he knows. Chrom is changing the setting on a whim, no set pattern to it. Two seventeen, two eighteen, two nineteen - 

Chrom pulls up on the leash, sharp. Robin struggles against it, not ready to shift his weight, and it pinches against his throat. He wheezes, and comes up, and the vibrator pummels his prostate, intensifying, growing, synapses firing across his body. 

He gasps as the vibration eases off, and squints at Chrom. 

Chrom tilts his hand idly for a check at the time, as if bored, but then his eyes flick back to Robin, watching. “I'll know if you come,” he says. “I always know. Go ahead, I can tell you want to...” 

“I won't,” Robin blurts, and then his eyes roll back in his head as the plug shoots vibration up his spine. He won't, he  _ won't _ , he won't - it eases off again, leaving him leaning over, breathless, hands clasped behind him. 

“Do you want to know how long it's been?” Chrom asks, teasing. 

Three minutes, perhaps? Every thump of his heart feels like a dozen seconds, although he knows that's not right. “No, sir,” he gasps, and then cries out as another wave crests inside of him. Is it getting  _ more _ intense, or is he just more sensitive? “No, I - gods,  _ please _ \--” 

Chrom's sultry laugh runs through him, and he's aware of fingers on his jaw, turning him to look up that long, devastating body. Here, Chrom's erection is so close, straining against his pants, but he knows better than to touch. 

“Look at me. Don't close your eyes. Let me see it,” Chrom says. 

Robin stares up as the vibrator sends growing pulses through his body, cresting, rising, need and want washing through him. He stares, as Chrom's blue eyes bleed into him, as his own eyes fill with tears at holding back something he wants  _ so _ badly. 

Four minutes, eight minutes, three hours… Robin doesn't know, he only knows the expression on Chrom's face, willing him to succeed, knowing if he fails. 

He only notices when the vibration decreases that his body is alternating hot and cold. He gasps and continues to look at Chrom, the leash pulled taut between them, his cock aching with every soft brush of fabric against it. He won't give in, won't let it take him. 

“Beautiful,” Chrom whispers, and brushes Robin's hair out of his face. “You look so good like this.” 

Robin makes a sound and shifts on his knees, trying to cling to those words as the vibrator hits a low point and then ascends once more. 

Chrom glances at the watch, then grins at Robin. “Four minutes. One to go.” And then he shifts his foot between Robin's thighs and finds his erection. 

Robin cries out, shuddering, as Chrom presses the sole of his dress shoe down against it. Fabric curls around it, tingling, tickling, and then aching as Chrom leans in, putting weight on it. Robin struggles against the ropes - he can't help it, wants to reach out, forward, down, to get more friction or less. He gasps and cries out, and the vibrator sends waves of pleasure through his over-sensitized prostate, through his abdomen, rising, rising, rising. 

He’s speaking, but he doesn't think he's speaking any language that he recognizes, and Chrom applies more pressure. Robin arches his body and then curls in around Chrom’s leg and knee, babbling, straining his arms. He draws in a breath as the vibration falls away. “Please,” he gasps, and then presses his mouth to the fabric of Chrom's leg, to keep other words from racing through him. He rubs his teeth against the pants, moaning and cringing. 

And then the leash is pulled sharply up, choking him with sudden urgency. He coughs and gasps, and blinks up at Chrom. He watches as Chrom moves his thumb with great deliberation over the remote, debating the next torment. The vibration rises, swelling. Robin whines deep in his throat. Chrom presses with his foot, and then presses a button. “Thirty seconds,” he says, almost apologetically. 

The vibration intensifies and then  _ stays _ there. Right there, working its way into his prostate. It's like a caress inside his dick, up and down, just the way Chrom knows he likes it. The weight against his cock actually works in his favor, making him unable to thrust himself against it, trying to get more pressure. 

He pants and gasps and shudders, overwhelmed and frantic with dual urgencies - to come as loudly and exuberantly as he can, and to deny,  _ deny _ the thing he wants, deny his body satisfaction. 

He holds himself on that razor edge until the pressure fuzzing his mind fades. He's aware, distantly, that he didn't come, and is confused, for a moment, as to why. What did it matter? He should have. He's so ready that any sudden touch or vibration will likely pitch him headfirst into it. The vibration is off, and Chrom's foot is off his erection. 

Robin leans against the warm leg, allows it to hold him upright, and feels more than hears Chrom's praise: “Good boy, Robin. You were wonderful, holding back for me.” Chrom's fingers against his hair and forehead are cool and welcome. 

Finally, Robin looks up, resting his cheek against Chrom's knee. Chrom smiles, leaning in, still petting him with all the fondness he can muster. Robin floats for a few seconds, smiling back, perfectly content. 

“Why don't you tell me what you want for your reward,” Chrom eventually says. 

Robin looks up his lover's body, trailing lazily over every hard line swathed in fabric. “I want your cock in my mouth,” he says, soft, dreamy. 

Chrom reacts, his body tensing, and a smile twitches across his face. “Robin,” he whispers, wondrously, and caresses his cheek. “As you wish.” 

He doesn't undo Robin's hands, nor does he remove the vibrator plug. He waits until Robin holds himself on his own legs again, and then goes to his fly. His cock springs free as he shifts his underwear aside, pointing toward Robin. Robin makes a soft little noise and shifts forward, nuzzles into it, feeling the thatch of hair against his cheeks and chin. 

Then he licks along the silky length, base to tip. It's already a bit salty, and he dips his tongue into the slit. Chrom trembles and throws a hand back to the bed. “Robin,” he breathes. 

Robin swirls his tongue and settles his lips around just the head. Chrom wheezes, holding still. His eyes are squeezed shut, losing himself to it. Robin hums for a reaction, and is not disappointed. 

“Fuck,” Chrom says. Robin sucks in his cheeks and gets to watch as Chrom's confident strength crumbles, just a shade. 

Chrom doesn't fuck his mouth, but lets Robin do as he pleases. Robin likes this, enjoys the control he has over his own reward. He teases and plays for a little while, until Chrom is groaning and biting the inside of his cheek - the tell for when he's perilously close and trying to hang on a bit longer. 

Robin sucks and takes it all in, the way he knows Chrom likes, and salty come spurts into his mouth. Chrom moans his way through it, and Robin licks up every drop, enjoying his dom's reaction to what Robin does to him. 

Chrom sinks back onto the bed with a sigh, and then reaches out to caress Robin's hair. “That was amazing.” 

They sit together for a few moments, Robin lost in the touch and the thrill of having Chrom's orgasm on his tongue. He rests his forehead against Chrom’s inner knee, breathing. There's the soft shifting of fabric and the sound of a zipper, but Robin ignores it, savoring the brief relaxation of a task done well. The leash hangs loose between them. 

His own erection hasn’t flagged, but the orgasm has backed off, so that he feels he might survive whatever happens next. Because the way Chrom is looking at him, there is a “next” already brewing. 

After a few moments, Chrom stops petting him and the leash pulls taut. Robin sits up at the gentle prompt, hands still tied, plug still inside of him. Chrom looks down his body. “Turn around.” 

Robin shuffles on his knees, head up, leash tight. The shirt finally falls away as he moves, drooping from his shoulders to pool at his elbows. Chrom’s fingers glide along the back of his collar, tracing down his spine. Robin shudders at the hot breath on his shoulder, resists leaning back into it.  

Chrom's hands go to his tied wrists, removing the rope and then gently settling his shirt in place on his shoulders. Robin drops his hands to his lap, savoring the tingle where the ropes marked his skin. He sighs as Chrom gives an affectionate brush of knuckles to his cheek, and then gasps as the leash tightens, and Chrom starts to walk away. 

Robin follows on trembling arms and legs, keeping pace beside Chrom, aware of the skirt brushing his legs and backside, the plug still inside of him. Chrom holds the leash firm, not allowing much stray from beside his right knee. Robin doesn't look up at Chrom but can tell he's enjoying leading him like this, just from the way he grips the leash. Chrom stops at the shelf across the room and one of the drawers slides open. 

“Here, hold this.” Chrom puts a bottle to Robin's mouth, and he dutifully takes it. It's a lube bottle, and almost too big for him to hold. He sets his lips around it, determined. 

He follows when Chrom pulls on the leash, not caring where they are going, attention focused on his task. The rug gives way to wooden floorboards, which feel cold beneath Robin's knees, coated as they are in a thin layer of material. 

“Up,” Chrom commands, and tugs. Robin chokes a bit, not expecting the sudden motion, and the bottle falls from his mouth and thuds to the floor. 

Robin freezes, staring as it rolls away from his hands, knowing better than to reach for it, despite that he wants to. The leash loosens in palpable disappointment. 

“Sorry, sir,” Robin says to the floor, not daring to look at Chrom. 

But the leash pulls him up and back, until he's forced to meet Chrom's gaze. He stares at him, heart hammering over the simple failure. 

Chrom looks stern but not angry. “Was that too hard?”

“No, sir,” Robin says. “Only surprising.” 

Chrom caresses his cheek for a moment, showing he's not upset. When the command comes, Robin leaps to comply. “Go get it.” 

Robin crawls forward and bends to grab the bottle once more with his teeth. Chrom touches his ass, exposed by the position, and Robin keeps from shifting back into it, focuses only on the bottle as Chrom touches him, twisting the plug. A whine escapes his lips. 

Finally, he grabs it, holding it tight in teeth and lips. Chrom gives him a swat, and although his ass stings and his arms tremble, he holds onto the bottle. 

“Up, on the bed,” Chrom says, with just a brief tightening of the leash. 

Robin crawls onto the bed and closes his eyes as the leash slackens. The bed shifts and Chrom sits beside him, smoothing his thumb over the collar. “You messed up my plans, a bit. Why don't you get me hard again so I can continue?” 

Robin looks at Chrom and then nods. Chrom takes the bottle from Robin's mouth. When Robin goes to reach for his pants, Chrom flicks his fingers against the back of his hand. “Don't remove your hands from the bed.” 

Robin licks his lips. “Yes, sir.” He leans into Chrom's lap and nuzzles his face into the fabric. Chrom's most of the way hard already, but Robin mouths along it, making soft little noises of excitement. 

Robin tongues the zipper and grips it in his teeth, tugging it open. Chrom watches, leaning back on one arm, hand resting at Robin's hip. Robin struggles with the button. Chrom touches the back of his thighs and says, “I'm waiting.” 

Robin groans and pops the fabric loose, burying his face in Chrom's groin and breathing deep of the musky scent. He mouths at his cock, rock-hard again, and tilts, struggling to get it out. He has to go gentle, not wanting to hurt Chrom. 

Finally it comes loose, standing tall and proud from the parted blue fabric. Robin pants with the effort, and looks up at Chrom. 

“You want it, don't you, love?” Chrom whispers. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Back up and center yourself in the bed.” 

Robin obeys. Chrom kicks his shoes off and slips up behind Robin, the lube bottle still in his hand. He pops the cap and sets it atop Robin's back. “Don't spill,” he says.

Robin slows his breathing, and the bottle teeters along his spine. 

Chrom's fingers go to the plug in his entrance, and Robin tenses around it as he gives a gentle tug. “Got to get this out if you want me to fuck you, love.” 

Breathing still a bit erratic, Robin whimpers. 

He tries to stay still, but every nerve in his lower body is tense, activated. And Chrom isn't making this easy for him. He twists the vibrator, and then draws it down, tugging his entrance open. Robin bites down a curse, curls his fingers into the blankets. Chrom doesn't like when he uses profanities, although Chrom doesn’t hold himself to the same standard. Robin’s cock is already  _ aching  _ and Chrom isn't even inside of him yet. His mind whirls, struggling to keep himself still, tension and desire warring for dominance. 

When Chrom presses the plug forward, into his prostate, Robin arches and spills the lube all over himself. 

“Don't you want me to fuck you?” Chrom asks, rescuing the bottle. He grabs Robin’s hips, grinding his cock between his ass cheeks, against the plug. 

“Yes, yes, sir, I do!” Robin presses back, groaning and frustrated. 

Chrom spanks him, three, four, five times, the plug jumping deep with each strike. 

“Please,” Robin gasps. He can feel his flesh heating up, each hit aimed for maximum sensation. “Yes, I want your cock, please, sir!” 

“You've made a mess,” Chrom says, and spanks him a final time. The white shirt clings to his back as Robin shifts. 

“I'm sorry,” Robin whimpers, as Chrom runs soft fingers along his enflamed skin. “I'm sorry, please, sir--” 

“Be quiet,” Chrom commands, and grabs the plug. He pulls, and Robin's mouth parts. He breathes out a long voiceless cry and then clamps his mouth shut. Chrom removes it slowly, his other hand at Robin's hip, holding him still. Robin drops his head as the plug comes out. 

Fingers replace it immediately, Chrom gathering lube from Robin's sticky back to explore. Robin shudders, but keeps quiet. The challenges are coming fast and hard now, meant to keep him guessing, to keep him off-balance. He loves it, loves this, Chrom deftly maneuvering him over the edge, into a place where time moves oddly, where his only thoughts are for Chrom.

Chrom's fingers find his prostate, rub into it, and Robin shoves a hand into his mouth to absorb his cry. A sharp rap at his elbow reminds him to keep his hands on the bed, and he drops it, gasping. 

The leash grows taut again. Robin arches back into it. 

Chrom leans his long body over Robin's, not caring about the lube soaking into his vest, fingers still up Robin's ass. His voice is soft, provocative in Robin's ear. “How badly do you want this? Enough to stay still while I do whatever I want to you?” 

Robin can't answer that even if he wants to, his body humming with the near-ceaseless pressure. He nods, shakily, and gasps as Chrom tugs on the leash, bending him further. Robin grips the bedspread. 

“We'll see how long you last,” Chrom says, and bites the tip of Robin's ear. “And you will ask permission before coming, a full, complete sentence. And maybe, if you're good, I'll allow it. Do you understand? Tell me you understand.” 

“I - understand,” Robin whimpers. “I have to-ah! Ask permission. And I must not move. Hands on the bed.” 

Chrom presses a kiss to his temple and stretches his fingers inside, and Robin moans long and low. 

“Good, love. I believe in you. You can do it.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Robin bows his head as the leash relaxes. Chrom nips at the top of his spine before removing his hand from Robin's ass. Robin sighs, hole squeezing closed. His backside burns and aches from the spanking. But his erection aches even more, longing for release, for bliss. 

Chrom slides the tacky shirt up and out of the way to grasp his hips, above the waistband of the skirt. His fingers dig in. His cock pokes at Robin's entrance, and between the plug and Chrom's fingers stretching him just before, Robin cannot keep him out. Not that he wants to. Chrom glides in, just the head, and Robin tightens around it, groaning. 

He wants to thrust back. He doesn't, relenting to Chrom's pace, accepting the challenge. 

Don't come without permission, and don't move. Two simple tasks, by themselves. He clenches his hands in the blankets. 

Chrom’s cock isn’t girthier than the vibrator plug, but it is longer. Robin gasps and squirms when it brushes at his prostate, deliberately gentle, and then passes by, sliding deeper and deeper. Chrom sighs and gives his hip a pat when he’s fully sheathed. “How is it?” he prompts. 

“Good, sir.” 

“Just good?” Chrom pulls back and then thrusts home again. Robin gasps. 

Chrom’s hand snakes around his hip and feels at his cock. Robin shivers and arches, staying still. Chrom's hand squeezes firm around him, and Robin already feels the coils of orgasm rising, growing tighter. Not there yet, but soon, if Chrom keeps doing what he's doing. 

“You're so hard,” Chrom says, fingers running too slow down his length. “So ready, aren't you?” 

“Yes sir!” Robin blurts, and then cries out as Chrom thrusts inside once more, head sliding along his prostate at just the right angle. 

"This does it for you, my cock in your ass… doesn't it?" 

"Ye--ah!" he chokes, as Chrom rubs his palm into Robin's sensitive head. Robin  _ growls _ , wordless, and Chrom squeezes. 

Robin longs to reach down, to force Chrom's hand into consistency, but he shouldn't move his hand from the bed, and it will only make it worse for him in the long run if Chrom senses Robin is trying to control any part of this. He curls his hands into the bedspread, and then gasps as the leash is pulled tight, pressing into his throat. He can do little but arch, and accept what Chrom wants to do. 

“Please, please, sir…” 

“What is it?” Chrom asks, leaning in and relaxing the leash a bit. His fingers still in their teasing. 

Robin swallows hard. “I want you to go harder, sir.” 

Chrom smiles - it’s there in his tone. “Do you now? Well, you were good for me earlier…” He thrusts in, sharp. Robin gasps. “But you spilled the lube when I told you not to.” He eases his cock out, and Robin whimpers at the slow drag. 

“Please...” 

Chrom curls his fingers around Robin’s cock and runs his thumb along the bottom of the ridge. 

Robin squirms but doesn’t remove his hands from the bed. Chrom can’t possibly penetrate him any slower, deliberately going at a snail’s pace. 

Robin groans as Chrom pinches the head of his dick between thumb and forefinger. This exquisite torture is almost too much for Robin. 

“Oh, gods,  _ please _ , sir,  _ please  _ go faster, please!”

Chrom chuckles, and takes his hand from Robin’s cock to run it up his throat, tracing the line of the collar across his neck. “Are you sure?” He slowly -  _ slowly _ \- forces his dick into Robin’s ass, a slow sweet burn. 

“Yes, sir, please, I want it, please…” Chrom’s hand goes around his throat, over the collar, and squeezes gently. Robin gives a whole-body shiver, and the breath rakes in his throat, slightly constricted. “Please, sir,” he says. 

Chrom leans in and kisses his neck and then his cheek. “Since you are asking so politely…” 

His hands go suddenly both to Robin’s hips, and draw him off of him and then back on, a sudden sharp thrust that spikes into Robin’s brain. 

“Ah!” he cries. “Sir!” 

Chrom finds a hard, fast rhythm, and then angles down, dragging along inside Robin’s body to press against his prostate. Robin moans and trembles, but keeps his hands firm against the bed. 

Again, and again, Chrom thrusts, aiming right for it, and Robin gasps. An unfurling sweet thing mounts within Robin, pressure and desire, and it’s almost as if his body is rebelling against his own control. 

Robin doesn’t forget, though. “Sir! Can I - ohhh! May I please - come?” 

“Not yet,” Chrom says, and thrusts inside. Robin screams. He  _ knew _ that Chrom always does this, that he wrings an orgasm out of him after Robin is certain he cannot resist. Another thrust, dragging, and then Chrom reaches around and takes Robin’s cock in hand, and it’s too much, he’s going to - 

“Please, may I?” Robin blurts, and wheezes as Chrom glides his hand up and down,  _ finally _ smooth firm strokes. He can't help the broken way he begs. “Please, please, sir-” 

“Complete sentences,” Chrom reminds him. 

Robin swallows. “Please! Please may I come? May I come on your cock, sir?” He buries his face in the blankets. 

Chrom doesn’t answer, which is answer enough. Robin groans, and throws his head. 

“Please,  _ oh gods _ , please, I need-! Please let me come!” 

Chrom leans in and breathes heavily into his ear, “I want to feel your orgasm in  _ my _ cock.” 

“You will, you will, I will - Please may I…” Robin whimpers and squeezes around Chrom. “Please, sir…” 

Pleasure rises and rises, starting to emanate out of his body, and if Chrom doesn’t give permission  _ this instant _ Robin is going to go, and there will be punishment for that if he can’t hold it back… 

"Hold," Chrom says directly in his ear. Another hip thrust, and it's almost like shattering, and Robin is whining. "Hold it, love, just a bit more…" 

Robin does, panting out his need with every gasp. He wrestles that sensation back, one thrust at a time, all the while begging. "Please, please oh gods please, I want to come on your dick!" 

It surprises him when Chrom says: “Robin, go ahead, love.” His voice is smooth and warm. “Come for me.” Chrom thrusts against his prostate, and moves his hand along Robin’s dick. 

Robin throws his head and cries out, and he’s coming. Pulses of heat and cold, brittle layers crash through him all at once. Chrom tugs hard on the leash, restricting his breath, and Robin comes  _ harder _ . Hot, cold, the world warps sideways and Chrom is there, hand and dick and body keeping Robin tethered like a kite on the spool. 

Distantly, he's aware of Chrom's erratic hips, of the final sharp snap into his prostate as Chrom buries himself deep inside Robin and comes. Warmth spreads inside of him and Chrom partially collapses onto Robin, hand still wrapped around Robin's dick, coated in come. 

Robin collapses himself with a happy moan. They lie in a tangled mess on the bed for a few blissful moments. Robin remembers how to breathe, and reaches back to caress Chrom's cheek. Chrom kisses his fingers, one at a time, and then moves to his palm. 

He nips the fleshy part of his thumb and Robin shudders. 

"You're getting your suit messy," Robin says, but makes no attempt to move his legs from around and between Chrom's. His limbs are filled with a mix of lead and sunlight. 

"I'm not concerned," Chrom breathes, and runs his fingers gently along Robin's collar. He smiles into Robin's hair. "Did you enjoy yourself?" 

"Oh, gods,  _ yes _ ." Robin shudders with the memory pressed into his skin, with Chrom's dick softening inside of him. He smiles as Chrom goes back to kissing his hand, kissing his hair, kissing his neck. Then he closes his eyes and lets the languid exhaustion overtake him. 

Chrom leans over him and kisses his shoulder, watching until Robin is fast asleep, and then joins him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! I really wanted to explore some more actual dom/sub elements and this scene pretty much wrote itself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! There will be a second part to this at some point, set a few months in the future - I don't know exactly how to label it but I will try my best so that you can tell if the scenes are linked. There's also another Modern AU scene featuring Chrom-in-a-suit... y'all have been warned! :3 
> 
> YES I am finally BACK! I've got a few different fanfics/chapters written (including 24k+ words of a new exciting story along the same lines as Protected.... I ended up stress-writing most of the first draft to cope with the impending exam!) and hopefully I will get the others out soon. 
> 
> Huge thanks to Kristin and Mio and Zet and Esme for helping me keep my sanity these past few months (and thank you to Kristin, for gently pushing me to post this before it was PERFECT... because Perfection doesn't exist and I will edit until the end of time....)


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